


Medal of Honor

by Bohemienne



Series: Bohemienne's Stucky PWP One-Shots [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Rogers, Captain America: The First Avenger, Felching, M/M, Military Uniforms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Snowballing, Top Bucky Barnes, Uniform Kink, World War II, disrespecting the literal office of the presidency, disrespecting the office of the presidency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:17:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9413486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bohemienne/pseuds/Bohemienne
Summary: A porny answer to the question of why Steve didn't turn up for his Medal of Honor awards ceremony in CA:TFA.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I love [this Joe & Barack meme](http://gallery.tinyletterapp.com/7fe21340eee39ed0fa65e5d891c02ddb5c86de49/images/915677ba-7160-4818-b82b-4532da070f3c.png)...
> 
> ...I liked the idea of Captain America having gay sex on top of the president's desk in the Oval Office even better. So. That's how I'm coping with this weekend.

“Who’s strong and brave, here to save the American way?”

Steve is backed against the damask-covered wall, Bucky’s lips on his jaw, Bucky laughing as he closes his arms around Steve’s waist. “C’mon, Buck.” Steve makes a half-hearted swat at Bucky’s arm before surrendering and curling his fingers around the warm muscle there. “I’ve gotta go on stage soon.”

“Soon?” Bucky nudges Steve’s chin up as he kisses Steve’s pulse point, as his fingers slide under the blazer of Steve’s formal captain’s uniform, as his hips rut up against Steve’s own. “Please. You heard the guy. We got—hours, probably, before they get through all the pomp and circumstance.”

“But this is the _White House_ ,” Steve says. A tiny whimper escapes him as Bucky’s teeth sink into the flesh of his throat. “We’re in the _Oval Office_. We should show some—decorum.”

Bucky snorts a laugh against him. Steve doesn’t need to glance down to know the look on Bucky’s face—the wry grin, the sinfully flushed lips, the dark hair scattered and mussed across his brow. But Steve looks anyway. Because it’s his favorite sight in the world, the sight of his guy, the sight he feared he’d never see again. And now that he has it back, now that Bucky’s safe and here and _real_ , they’re both real, alive, whole—he’s never going to let it go.

“You’re the star-spangled man with a plan.” Bucky’s voice vibrates against Steve’s skin, piquing every last nerve ending. “Can’t blame me for gettin’ hot and bothered, babe. It’s my patriotic duty.”

Steve curls one hand around Bucky’s head, fingers threading through his dark hair and knocking his sergeant’s hat away. “Well, if it’s in service to your country . . .”

Bucky fumbles with the buckle on Steve’s uniform belt. “I’m all for servicing my country.”

Steve catches Bucky’s mouth with his own, lips covering his, tongue darting against Bucky’s ravenous mouth. Bucky offers up a needy moan, and Steve readily swallows it down. He wants every part of Bucky, wants to fill himself up with him, wants to fill _Bucky_. He laps at Bucky’s mouth, his tongue, as his nails dig at Bucky’s scalp. Savors that spicy taste of him he knows so well—that he wants to spend his life tasting.

“Captain.” Bucky pulls back, gasping for air, but then he reaches for the knot on Steve’s tie and yanks Steve toward him for one more sloppy, wet kiss. “Permission to speak freely?”

Steve whimpers as Bucky palms the front of Steve’s trousers. It feels like the portrait of George Washington is _staring_ at them, but Steve couldn’t care less as the sensitive nerves of his dick spark all the way up to his brain. “Permission granted.”

Bucky muffles a laugh against Steve’s shoulder. “Get on the fucking desk. On your back.” He unfastens the topmost button of Steve’s slacks. “And don’t you dare keep quiet.”

Steve’s eyes go wide. “That’s the _president’s_ desk—”

“Mmhmm.” Bucky’s fingers nimbly unfasten the next button down as he bites at Steve’s neck, humming against Steve’s skin, dark lashes brushing Steve’s jaw. He eases up his grip and slides his mouth to Steve’s ear. “And I’m going to fuck you on it.” He laughs. “Gonna fuck _Captain America_ on it.”

Steve bites down on a sharp groan. Every filthy word from Bucky’s lips stokes the heat in his belly, hotter and hotter. And it’s not that they were exactly chaste, before— _before_ , before the serum, before the army took Bucky away from him, before he rescued him from the Hydra labor camp—but between the new stamina and ravenousness in Steve’s blood and the new desperate edge in Bucky’s actions, they’ve been finding all kinds of new and exciting ways and places to make time.

With a nudge at Steve’s hips, Bucky steers him toward the desk, and Steve lets himself be toppled onto it. “The whole point of today’s to honor you for your heroics at Kreischberg, right?” Bucky works Steve’s slacks down over his hips, down his thighs. “Let me be first in line to show my gratitude.”

Bucky’s tongue swirls against the soft skin of Steve’s inner thigh, pushing another gasp out of him. The pressure of his want, his _need_ for Bucky is crushing him. For all the endurance the serum’s given him, he’s not sure how much longer he can hold out as Bucky laps and sucks his way up toward Steve’s groin and nestles his nose in the down golden hairs there.

“Please, Buck,” Steve whispers. “I need you so bad. And we don’t have much time—”

“Sorry, Steve, can’t hear you.” Bucky lets the words gust over the crown of Steve’s cock, standing at attention. Steve looks down at the sight of his guy between his legs, lips slick and flushed, eyes a dark, stormy blue. “You’re gonna have to speak up more than that.”

Steve groans, hips twisting upward. He’s desperate to feel Bucky’s hot, filthy mouth around him—feel Bucky’s thick cock inside him. “Fuck me,” Steve begs. “C’mon, Bucky. Please.”

Bucky watches him a moment longer, eyebrows drawn, a smirk twisting his mouth. “Mm. Not just yet.” He sinks lower, on his knees before the desk. “Gotta get you ready, after all.”

“I’m ready,” Steve groans, but then Bucky’s tongue is charting a path from his tight balls all the way to his tight hole, and a sob lodges in Steve’s throat.

Bucky clucks his tongue; teases the tip of his nose against Steve’s hole as he plies Steve’s cheeks open. “No, sweetheart, I don’t think you are. Gotta loosen you up first.” He flattens his tongue and rubs it back and forth, down between Steve’s cleft. “You gonna open up for me, baby?”

Steve nods, his mouth dry. “Yes, god, please, Buck . . .”

Bucky laughs again and rests the pad of his thumb against Steve’s puckered hole. “Might take a little while.” Steve rocks his hips, trying desperately to push Bucky’s thumb inside himself, but Bucky stays firm. “You gonna let me take care of you, or are you gonna be too needy, sweetheart?”

“Sorry.” Steve’s face flushes. “I’ll be good, promise.”

“Yeah, right.” Bucky flicks his tongue around the round knot of muscle, and Steve cries out. “Captain America didn’t get his Medal of Honor by behaving.”

Steve can’t help but laugh, but then Bucky’s tongue is pressing into him, thick muscle coaxing him apart, and Steve can’t focus on much else. He’s stretching around Bucky, and the friction burns so beautifully, radiating through him. For a few minutes he can’t do anything but writhe as Bucky works him open, bit by bit, finger alternating with tongue alternating with more fingers, and then finally Bucky’s tongue is brushing against that bundle of nerves deep inside Steve, and he’s sobbing, sobbing as Bucky’s mouth suctions at his hole and his teeth graze Steve’s flesh and his tongue is picking Steve apart, bit by bit.

“Christ, Buck, you’re so goddamned good.” Steve’s voice is thick and woolly with desire. “Feel so good, take such good care of me . . .”

Bucky’s teeth graze at Steve’s ass one more time as he gets one more good flick of his tongue before easing out. “So warm and tight,” Bucky murmurs appreciatively, between kisses along Steve’s groin, up to his still fully uniformed stomach. “Can’t wait to make you come on my cock, Stevie.”

Steve’s back arches and he tips his head back, catching sight of the curved, curtained windows and the White House rose garden beyond. Jesus Christ, they’re really doing this, and eventually someone will be along to take them to the medal ceremony—but Bucky’s right, they have time still, he shouldn’t worry—

Bucky hoists Steve up by the knees, pressing them to Steve’s chest. “That’s a good boy.” Holding Steve’s legs with one arm, he fishes in the pocket of his uniform jacket with his other hand, then pulls out a tin of Vaseline.

Steve bites his lower lip as the cool scent of the jelly reaches his nose. It’s the scent of long, lazy nights in their Brooklyn tenement; of frantic moments they’ve shared in London alleys and Steve’s barracks and, briefly, the bathroom of a pub. But now Bucky’s working slow, nudging slicked fingertips into Steve while he grins down at him.

“So good and hot for me. I’d give you a medal too, if I could.”

Steve laughs and glances away from him. “You know what I _want_ you to give me.”

Bucky bats his eyelashes, that sinful caricature of innocence that got him out of countless scoldings when they were kids. “I’m afraid I don’t, baby. You’re gonna have to tell me.”

Steve rocks back onto Bucky’s fingers with a frustrated groan. “Fuck me. Put that gorgeous cock of yours in me.” Then, because he, too, knows how to play innocent, he flutters the golden lashes of his own. “ _Please_.”

Bucky bites down on a moan. “That’s more like it. So hungry for my cock.” Steve glances down and catches sight of Bucky fumbling his own trousers open; freeing his leaking dick, and Steve whines with want. With a grin, Bucky works another thick smear of Vaseline onto his shaft, making sure Steve can see every bit of it, then positions himself behind Steve, hooking Steve’s legs up over his shoulders.

“Please,” Steve says, locking eyes with Bucky. His chest swells as Bucky looks back, expression solemn, eyes heavy with want.

Then Bucky thrusts inside him, one swift arc, and Steve’s eyes roll back as heat sears through him. Bucky’s thick, so much thicker than just his fingers, his tongue, and Steve’s body stretches anew with fresh pleasure and pain, but then he’s nudging into Steve just right and Steve feels electrified, unmoored.

“That’s it. That’s my sweetheart.” Bucky’s hips piston into him in quick bursts; his upper lip curls back with strain. “So fucking tight for me. Just right for me, baby.”

Steve swears under his breath; his dick, flat against his stomach, is drooling precome, dangerously close to staining his uniform jacket. He licks one palm and reaches down to fist it in time with Bucky’s frantic thrusts. “I’m always yours, Buck.”

“Damn right you are.” Bucky’s hips slap against the back of Steve’s thighs, and he snarls. “Big or small, Stevie, we’re made for each other. Fuck, you’re so good—”

“Please.” Steve tightens his jaw. “Please, Bucky, please . . .”

Bucky pumps into him with new force and locks his legs, holding himself there, as he comes. Steve cries out too as a fresh surge of heat fills him, as Bucky’s weight sags against him, and he’s so close, so fucking close. Bucky’s forehead sinks against his, lips rounded lewdly, and Steve bites at Bucky’s lower lip. Bucky keens, oversensitive, and slowly catches his breath.

Once he can stand, Bucky slides out of him, then drops to his knees again. Kisses at Steve’s leaking hole. “So fucking wrecked, baby.” He licks at the cleft of Steve’s ass. “Gotta get you cleaned up for your ceremony.”

Oh, fuck. Steve squeezes his eyes shut as a fresh moan escapes him. He knows what’s coming.

Bucky’s tongue works into his hole again, lapping, sucking, and Steve bites down hard on his lower lip. But then Bucky’s leaning over him, kissing him, his own hot juices flowing into Steve’s mouth, salty and tinged with a sour sweetness that makes Steve so weak, and Steve swallows them down with a grateful sob and lets Bucky’s tongue tangle around his own as Bucky’s fingers work back into Steve’s hole.

“So good for me,” Bucky murmurs against the side of Steve’s neck. “So good.” Bucky closes his other hand around Steve’s on his shaft and pumps with him slowly while his fingers tease once more at the bundle of nerves inside of Steve. Then he straightens up and drops back down to his knees in front of the desk.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve breathes.

“What, you thought I wouldn’t take care of you?” Bucky asks. “I’m not wasting a drop of you.”

Fingers still stroking at Steve’s prostate, he sinks his mouth down around his shaft, tongue laving at the thick vein underneath before teasing at his head, his slit. Sparks shoot behind Steve’s eyelids as he shakes and sobs. “Oh god, Buck, what did I do to deserve you?”

Bucky answers by hollowing out his cheeks and thrusting his fingers in deep. Steve cries as a white haze fills his vision. Bucky whines, the sound burrowing into Steve’s skin, and gives one last sharp thrust with his fingers.

And Steve lets go. All the ache and yearning he felt when Bucky left him behind for the war—lets go. All the fear and determination that seized him when he heard Bucky had been captured. They’re safe, they’re free, they’re together again. And if he has to spend the rest of his life serving the government for giving him that chance, for giving _Bucky_ that chance, then he will. And as he comes, Bucky sighs whisper-soft around him and swallows him down.

Steve’s eyelids flutter and he finds Bucky hovering over him, lips glistening and raw. He draws Steve up by his tie and gives him a bruising kiss, tangy with their combined fluids and more besides, but Steve doesn’t care, he wants to taste it forever, he wants to taste _Bucky_ forever, feel him, love him. He lets Bucky pull him into his arms and kisses him back with renewed strength.

“See? All nice and tidy.” Bucky gestures to Steve’s body, his exposed legs. “Well. Your slacks’ll be pretty wrinkled. But you’re still in good shape for your medal.”

Steve cards his fingers through Bucky’s hair and tugs at a loose dark curl that’s fallen over his brow. “You were right. We did have plenty of time.”

Bucky helps Steve stand; Steve reaches down and pulls his pants back up. Looks around the Oval Office where they’ve been made to wait. “Suppose they’ve started the press conference yet?” Bucky asks. He stands behind Steve and slides his arms around his waist, pulling Steve’s back against his chest.

“No idea.” Steve turns in Bucky’s arms and loops his arms around his neck. Forehead to forehead, Steve just rests there for a moment, breathing, _being_ with Bucky, then kisses him, slow and tender, his mouth still raw. He slides his fingers beneath Bucky’s chin, tipping it up ( _up_ , since when is he the taller one), and kisses him again. And again.

“Don’t suppose we’ve got time for another round?” Bucky asks slyly, letting his hands grip Steve’s firm ass as he speaks.

Steve laughs, rolling his eyes. “I deserve a medal just for putting up with you.”

Bucky tugs him down toward a floral chintz couch, and Steve straddles him, knees pinning Bucky’s thighs in place. “That can be arranged.”

**Author's Note:**

> [come cry about sad grandpa supersoldiers on Tumblr with me!](http://starandshield.tumblr.com)


End file.
